


Only Because You Want Me To

by questionsleftunanswered



Series: It's Important to Me [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Family meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionsleftunanswered/pseuds/questionsleftunanswered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John takes Sherlock to meet Harry and Clara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Because You Want Me To

The air in their room was heavy. It reeked of sex and satisfaction.

Sherlock lay across John so that his head rested on the shorter man’s shoulders. John was tracing his fingers lazily along Sherlock’s spine, pausing at every vertebra. They had been like this for nearly an hour, tangled in each other’s arms and ignoring the busy world beyond that door.

“Sherlock?” John asked the darkness.

“Hm?” was the grumbled reply, muffled since Sherlock’s face was still pressed into John’s shoulder.

“Would you want to meet Harry?” John had wanted Sherlock to meet his sister for a while now. They had been together for a month, already living together before that. John thought it was about time Sherlock met his family. Maybe even Clara depending on how well she and Harry were getting on.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Than I will.”

“But you can’t examine her, Sherlock. I know you can’t help but pick up on things, but you can’t go asking her about them. She doesn’t know what you do and has obviously never met a consulting detective before. Promise me you won’t deduce her.” John left out saying that Harry didn’t know that Sherlock was his boyfriend. They had never actually called each other such. It was always just understood. Both were also far too jealous for anything except an exclusive relationship.

“Do I have to, John? Maybe she’ll be impressed with my brilliance.”

“Yes, you have to.”

This was met with silence once again. John waited a bit before continuing.

“I’m having dinner with her tomorrow. Already told her I’d be bringing someone.”

“You assumed I’d go? Or were you just so confident in being able to coheres me into this.”

“Confident. Always confident.” John kissed the top of Sherlock’s head. He had since stopped tracing Sherlock’s spine and just rested his hand in the small of his lover’s back. “Go to sleep. I’ll have tea for you when you wake up.”

***

The next day went by in a blur. It was the distinct “day after” feeling that every case brought. There were mountains of paperwork and interviews. Naturally, Sherlock ignored everything and everyone in favor of sitting in the corner on his phone. He occasionally offered insults those new enough to still walk past him.  Others gave him a wide berth and went about their business as if the child in the corner didn’t exist.

“Sherlock, you can’t sit here and insult people all day,” John took up the seat beside Sherlock and offered him a mug of tea. It was Yard tea which meant it was cheap and not made for flavor. Unlike the tea they had at home that John was meticulous about getting a proper kind. 

Sherlock turned up his nose, “I don’t want tea, John.”

“Then get up and help us with the papers.” Even though John wasn’t a Yarder and had no obligation to them, he always stuck around after a case to clean up paperwork and tie up loose ends. Lestrade was always grateful because an extra set of hands meant that the work was done faster and they could all go for their traditional celebratory drink sooner.

“There is no point for me to do Scotland Yard’s paperwork. It’s good enough that I do their job for them!” Sherlock protested. He took his tea from John’s hands and sipped it; making a face every time and then drinking more. He always hated Scotland Yard's tea.

John gave up and went back to helping Lestrade.

After they were done, John went over to collect Sherlock. Tapping him on the knee John smiled, “Sherlock, we’re done. Come on. We have dinner tonight, remember?”

“Yes, I know. Where are we going?” Sherlock stood, setting aside the still half full tea mug.

“Angelo’s.” John took Sherlock’s hand and began walking away. It was long since known amongst the Yarders that they were together. Sherlock didn’t like public displays of affection, but his want to make John happy was more than his distaste for the smiles and winks from the less mature officers.

This time, only a few heads turned their way. One of the newer officers, the same one who had been the brunt of Sherlock’s snide comments, now gave Sherlock a wolf whistle. That was a horrible idea.

The day had been dull, Sherlock was tired of sitting and being docile. Sherlock turned his head slightly and shot a cutting look towards the other man. 

John had caught the movement and slid his hand up Sherlock’s arm to rest just beneath his shoulder. He leaned in close and whispered, “Sherlock, let’s just go home.”

Sherlock stiffened, but started determined towards the door, “You owe me.” Then he was pulling John away and into a cab; bound for Baker Street.

They got home and Sherlock paid the cabbie exactly. The man looked a bit upset, apparently Sherlock was known for generous tips.

John unlocked the door and went inside. He walked into the kitchen and started making tea. Sherlock hung his coat and scarf up and tugged off his jacket, resting it on the back of John’s armchair. He sat down and templed his fingers, thinking about John and their dinner tonight and John and what he wanted to do after dinner and John.

“Sherlock, here’s your tea,” John said offering Sherlock a mug.

“Oh, thanks,” Sherlock mumbled, accepting the offered mug of hot tea. He took a sip and then quickly released it, spilling tea all over the floor. “HOT! John why did you make it so hot?” He whined.

“You have to let it sit for a bit, Sherlock, to avoid burning your tongue.” John set his mug down and kneeled beside Sherlock. “Stick out your tongue.”

Sherlock did as he was told, continuing to talk, “But why isthn’t it alweady cooled down for me?” His speech was slow and disjointed because his tongue was being examined by John.

“Because I thought you were capable of drinking tea on your own. Your tongue is fine. A bit red, but nothing bad. Hang on, I’ll get you ice to suck on.” John left and returned with an ice cube and offered it to Sherlock. He took it and immediately popped it into his mouth. John then went and got a small towel to clean up the remains of Sherlock's drink.

“We are meeting Harry and possibly Clara in about two hours at Angelo’s.” John said taking a seat back on the couch and gingerly sipping his own steaming mug of tea.

“Why do I have to meet her, again? You and Harry don’t get on. Why should she and I?” Sherlock asked.

“Because she’s my only family and I want you to meet her.”

“Fine. But that means you have to come and meet Mummy.” At this idea a broad grin spread across Sherlock’s face, “Oh that’ll please Mycroft.”

“Why do I get the feeling that that will in no way please your brother?”

“He is very protective of our mother. Doesn’t like other people meeting her because he thinks they may use her as leverage against either one of us.”

“Isn’t that a bit paranoid?”

“Yes. Well, he doesn’t lock her away or anything of the sort, but he does have her under similar surveillance that he has us both under.”

“I’m sure she loves that.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Naturally.”

They lapsed into silence; drinking their own tea, both ignoring the telly in favor of their own thoughts. This was one of the best parts of their relationship, John though. They could have these long open-ended silences and neither had a problem. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t intrusive, it just was.

Eventually, John had finished his tea and both went to get ready for dinner.

John favored a navy jumper with a white stripe around the edges. He wore regular trousers and a pair of trainers. Satisfied with his cleanliness and appearance, he went back downstairs.

John stopped in the doorway. He could hear Sherlock still in the shower. Checking his watch, he realized that they only had about 45 minutes until they had to meet Harry. He went into Sherlock’s room and knocked on the door, “Sherlock. Hurry up would you? It’ll take at least 20 minutes to get there in the first place!”

The water shut off and John heard the shower curtain being pulled back. A few moments later the door opened and John unconsciously held his breath for a half a second. Sherlock stood in the middle of the bathroom wreathed in steam and dripping wet. He had a towel around his waist and a smile on his face. His dark curls were plastered to his head with the occasional random wayward curl sticking out at an awkward angle. He looked perfect.

“Must you rush me, John?” He said, obviously agitated by the intrusion.

“Yes. Dry off and get dressed. We have to be there before Harry.” John said. He quickly kissed Sherlock and left the bathroom. Curious as to what Sherlock intended to wear, John went to Sherlock’s closet to see what he had hanging out and ready.

A pair of fitted dark jeans, a deep green button down shirt, and a black jacket was hanging crisp and neat on his door. John went rifling through Sherlock’s large closet in search of a tie to match. Sherlock walked out, hair partially towel dried and towel secured low on his hips.

“I will not wear a tie.” He said, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

“I know you have one that would match this shirt perfectly.” John countered.

“But you’re wearing bloody trainers and a jumper!” Sherlock grabbed John around the waist and pulled him away from the closet. This caused John to stumble a bit and loosen the towel around Sherlock’s hips. The bit of fabric fell to the floor and John found himself pressed against Sherlock’s still damp, naked body; more specifically his half hard cock.

“Really, John? You could’ve just asked me you know.” Sherlock smiled. Then he was kissing John.  Needy and rough with all the urgency of being in a rush but still needing to get off immediately.

John tilted his head up and pushed his fingers into Sherlock’s wet hair, ignoring the water droplets that splattered his face. He pulled back and slowly started falling to his knees, kissing a trail as he went.

He took Sherlock in his mouth and immediately took him all the way in, eliciting a deep, throaty groan from Sherlock. Sherlock leaned against the bed post and ran his fingers through John’s dishwater colored hair.

John pulled back and did that magnificent thing with his tongue that nearly had Sherlock coming right then. John shifted a bit to suck each of Sherlock’s testicles individually. Then he took his cock back in his mouth and lapped at the head. Again John took Sherlock as far as he could. He loved the sensation of the head of Sherlock’s cock against the back of his throat. Hollowing out his cheeks, John sucked harder and traced his tongue up and down the veins.

He could feel that Sherlock was on the edge. He could hear it as well. Sherlock’s constant stream of, “Yes. Oh god yes more. Fuck, John, harder,” was becoming more broken until coherent words were eradicated and replaced with moans of pleasure. John loved this control. He knew exactly what to do to get certain sounds out of Sherlock and exactly how to push him close without letting him finish.

Finally, John’s lips met the curly hair at the base of Sherlock’s cock and he flicked his tongue over the perfect spot that always set Sherlock off. Sherlock let out a loud moan and came in John’s mouth. John swallowed every drop, milking Sherlock until he was entirely spent.

Sherlock slid, still naked and wet, to the floor. He was now slick with water and sweat. John licked the last traces of Sherlock’s come from the corners of his mouth and tried to ignore the obvious tent in his trousers.

While Sherlock calmed down on the floor, John was back to gathering up clothes for him to wear.

“C’mon Sherlock. We’ve just lost 20 minutes.” John picked up a towel and began drying Sherlock’s hair only to be swatted away.

“I am not a child, John.” Sherlock stood, finished drying most of his hair and quickly threw on the clothes John had laid out. Even in his rush, Sherlock looked pristine. He left the tie lying on his bed and threaded his fingers through John’s.

John tugged him out of his room and towards the door, only pausing to let Sherlock grab his coat and scarf. Then they were away again, in a cab towards Angelo’s.

They pulled up outside and Sherlock paid the cabbie, this time adding an extra twenty quid. They walked hand-in-hand into the restaurant.

“Good, we beat Harry.” John said, claiming a booth instead of the usual table by the window. Sherlock only nodded and took the seat beside John, both of them facing the door. Angelo came out and greeted them as always and brought a candle with him.

“Thank you, Angelo,” Sherlock said, “And we’ll have another guest, possibly two.”

“No problem! Their meals, free! I have been doing good business, Sherlock! They tell me you send them?” Angelo replied, always delighted when Sherlock shows up.

“I may have mentioned it around the Yard.” Sherlock smiled. Angelo was someone blessed enough to constantly be in Sherlock’s good graces.

“I appreciate it. Always good to hear about people enjoying my food. I’ll leave you two and your guest to dinner.” Angelo smiled and went back towards the kitchen.

Sherlock neglected his menu, already knowing what he wanted. He rested his hand high on John’s thigh.

John flipped through the familiar menu, settling on the risotto. He rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder.

Sherlock shook his shoulder, “Your sister is here. And she brought Clara.”

“Yes, I can see her, Sherlock.” John stood and waved Harry and Clara over.

Harry came over and warmly hugged John across the table. “John, you know Clara.”

“Yes certainly, good to see you again.” John hugged Clara as well before the three took their seat. Sherlock had remained silent through the social interaction that he was so unfamiliar with.

“So, Sherly, good to finally meet you. I’d love to say I’ve heard a lot about you, but we both know that’s not quite true.” Harry said as if she was talking about the weather.

John sputtered into his water. _Sherly?_ Harry had no idea what she was getting into. His sister ignored his reaction and kept going.

“This is Clara. My ex-wife and girlfriend. And then not girlfriend. And then girlfriend again.” Harry tossed her arm across Clara’s shoulders as if to make her point.

Sherlock still sat in silence beside John, his hand still resting on John. Harry picked up on Sherlock’s distance and sought to draw him in. John could tell what she was going to do. After a quick glance at Sherlock to make sure he didn’t notice, John shook his head at Harry. She only shot a ignorant smile at him and turned to Sherlock.

“So, Sherly, how’s your business of playing Yarder going?” She goaded. John shot her a look to kill before glancing at Sherlock.

Sherlock still sat there silently, but the hand on John tightened fractionally.

“Harry,” John began, “Sherlock is a Consulting Detective and a huge asset to Scotland Yard. He closes more cases than their top bloke.” Sherlock’s hand on his thigh loosened as bit when John was done. A smug look had replaced the previously uncaring façade. John doubted that Harry picked up on the change, but he could see it.

“That sounds excellent, Sherly. I’m sure John knows he’s lucky to have you.” Clara offered.

“My name is Sherlock, not _Sherly_.” Sherlock said with just the barest hint of a sneer, “And yes, John is fully aware of how lucky he is to have me.”

All four looked up and thanked Angelo as he placed their orders before them. They ate in silence until all were done. Harry had gone through four properly full glasses of fine red wine.  After the fourth John ordered her water instead, earning him a sour look.

“So how are you and John doing?” Clara asked Sherlock casually.

“Perfectly.” Sherlock replied curtly, not trying to hide his want to go home.

“You and Harry?” John asked Clara in return.

“We’re fine as well.” Clara said with a smile.

John, Harry, and Clara made small talk while Sherlock still sat silent.

They said their good nights and each pair filed into a separate cab.

Once inside, Sherlock visibly loosened up.

“You could’ve been a bit nicer, Sherlock.” John chided.

“I didn’t want to. I went. I didn’t share all the very interesting things I picked up on. I did exactly what you wanted me to do.” Sherlock said defensively.

“Sherlock, you weren’t friendly at all.”

“Friendly wasn’t in the bargain.”

John gave up and took Sherlock’s hand. He rested against the taller man during the ride home.

They reached Baker Street, this time paying the cabbie his due amount. Still holding onto Sherlock’s hand, John unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Making his way upstairs, John replayed dinner. He dreaded the inevitable call from Harry the next morning, dissecting her first impression of Sherlock.

John flopped down on the couch. Sherlock made his way to the kitchen, mumbling about how he should have been home earlier to check on his bone marrow soaking in lemon juice. John just blocked out Sherlock’s scientific jargin, opting to spread out on the couch and close his eyes. He just wanted a bit of quiet and hoped that Sherlock’s experiments would keep him such.

“John, I know you’re still awake so there’s no sense in trying to fake it.” Sherlock’s voice was close. He cracked one eye open. The consulting detective was awkwardly crouching down so that he was eye level with John as he lay on the couch. John had to stifle a chuckle at the sight.

“What, Sherlock? I’m trying to sleep.” John brought one hand up to rub his eyes, the other lazily dragging through Sherlock’s curls.

Sherlock knelt down beside John and sat back on his haunches.

“I was thinking a bit-”

“Shocker, Sherlock Holmes thinking. I never would have guessed it.”

“Anyway, I was thinking about dinner and all and how that was important to you. I wanted you to know that I am aware my behavior was less than satisfactory.” Sherlock gracefully stood up and returned to his bone marrow.

John realized that Sherlock had just apologized to him. It came as a great shock; one that he would not just let slip by. Sherlock was going to make up for his rubbish attitude during dinner as well. John had the perfect idea.


End file.
